The Moonbiter
by SchrodingerDM
Summary: Lola Moonbiter is a Irraka of the Blood Talons tribe. This is her story, how she became what she is now. Rated M for language. Oneshot


**Disclaimer: I don't own Werewolf the Forsaken or anything related.**

**This is the story of a NPC in the Chronicle I'm ST'ing. As the Chronicle takes place in Brazil (my home country), so does this story. As time passes, I intend to write down the stories of her packmates too, and even more stories about her. For now, this is my first try, hope you like it.**

**Chapter I - The First Change**

So, you wanna know my history? I'll tell ya something: it's not a nice history. It might get funny sometimes, or maybe dark, or even naughty, but not nice. Never, ever, it's going to be nice. So, sit down, take off your shoes, sip some tea, and open your ears...

My name is Lola, the Moonbiter. I'm what some people call a '_werewolf_'. Or should I say '_were-she-wolf_'? It doesn't really matter. But, you know those histories where someone gets bitten by a werewolf, then becomes one too? Well, they're bullshit. Baby, I was born this way.

But I'll not lie, I didn't grow up a werewolf. I grew up thinking I was a '_normal_' human. '_Normal_', talk about words that are overrated... But, to be honest, my childhood can't be described as anything else but normal.

I had a mother and a father, no siblings, I studied in a pretty good school, had some good friends, kissed my first boy at age 11, my first girl at age 14, lost my virginity at 15, entered college at 18, joined a Samba School at 19, graduated in Physical Education at 22. Damn, normal, life.

Now, back to the werewolf thing: we are divided into tribes, you see? There are about five major tribes, and some minor ones, plus the pure, but I won't talk about them. Wanna know more about those fuckers? Ask the Sergeant. Me? I'm part of the Blood Talons, the meanest motherfuckers who ever changed from man to wolf. And here in Brazil, in the Lodge of the Jungles, we are an army.

If you ask someone else about us, they'll say we're large, loud, boisterous bruisers with muscles for brains. Some of us are, that's true, but not me. I'm a stalker, a sniper, a killer. I was born under the new moon, born to be a trickster and a hunter, to strike terror in the hearts of the enemies of our kind. But that's now. Back then I was just some airheaded mulata with a big ass, who liked to dance and compete a little too much for her own good.

I say '_back then_' like it was ages ago. I've been what I am now for less than five years, been a Blood Talon for even less than that. But it feels like an age ago, it feels like I'm talking about someone else when I tell this story. But listen well, I don't tell it to everyone:

I was 22 back then, just out of the university. I had a job as a Personal Trainer for this rich bitch, and also worked as a Trainer in a big gym, but my real passion, the love of my life, was dancing. I was part of a group of passistas (dancers) in a Samba School, and we had just moved to the first group, which meant that would be the first Carnaval we competed against the heavy hitters of Rio.

I was ecstatic. My life was perfect and normal. I had my own, modest, apartment, my own motorcycle, no boyfriend, no parents, my freedom was complete. Don't read me wrong, I loved my ma, and my pa was a good guy, but when you grow wings you want to fly, right?

I was soaring. Perfect. Everything was damn perfect.

Things started getting weird right at the beginning of the year. It all started with this guy I met in the gym. Some muscly hunk he was, tall, dark, and handsome. But that was not all, there was an '_air_' around him that drove me nuts. I'm an experienced woman, I know how to control myself, but I just couldn't do it around him...

I remember checking him out when he entered the gym, I ogled his biceps as he bent over the reception balcony to fill his register application. I counted his teeth when he smiled, and wished to be me taking him to the medical room for the routine physical evaluation. Oooh, I would give him a very thorough exam...

"Miss Lola? Miss Lola, can you help me?"

And there went my dirty daydreaming. I was sweating heavily and didn't even notice. I also didn't notice miss Costa calling my name.

"Oh, sorry, I got lost in thought. What's the matter?"

Costa was a middle aged woman trying to get pretty again for her husband. She was damn hot, if you ask me, but like many women I knew she thought it was not enough. No amount of plastic surgery or exercise would make that woman feel good about herself. Hell, even if her dumbass of a husband decided she looked as good to him as she looked to everyone else, she would probably find something else to worry and complain about.

She wanted help with her leg exercises. Damn woman envied my abs, I'm pretty sure, as much as I envied her money. But then again, envy was a very common feeling in the environment I lived back then.

But fuck, it was my job to pay attention to that woman, not to some random slab of muscle who just popped in. So, there was I, stretching Costa's legs so she could start pumping, when she started blabbering:

"That was some boy, wasn't it?"

Aw, come on! I knew I was obvious, but I'm not talking about men with some frigid bitch.

"Who?"

"Come on, Lola, you're not that silly. Plus, I can see it in you... All over you."

Now she got creepy:

"What are you talking about, ma'am?"

"You're sweating, and breathing hard, and showing some other signs I won't say so our friendship will remain intact..."

Friendship my ass. But she was right in the sense that I was way too excited for just seeing some pretty face. I tried to be evasive about it:

"It's the heat. Plus, I'm just nervous... Today this gringa is coming to rehearse with us... I think Samuel is gonna put me to babysit her."

Costa laughed, good. Samuel was our choreographer, and Costa knew I danced for a Samba School, so it should all fall into place:

"Really? You shouldn't be so nervous about it. How's your English?"

"Pretty good."

"Then just speak slowly, and you'll do just fine. And tell the girl she's lucky having you as her babysitter."

We laughed. I didn't like Costa, but that didn't mean I hated her too. She was just too apathetic for me to make a difference, so I just went along, made her happy, and end of the line. After that little joke we finished stretching and I left her to continue her exercise battery.

I needed some water. And a cold shower wouldn't be bad either. Too bad I had to wait until my break to that shower. I walked over to the fridge, near the reception, and picked a bottle of mineral water. The receptionist was this small, buxom, girl, Rebeca. She was the closest to a friend I had in the gym:

"Hey, Beca, who's the new meat?'

"The MMA fighter?"

"He's a fighter? Cool..."

Beca laughed sheepishly:

"You might want to empty that bottle over your head, Lola, you look like a schoolgirl who just found her first crush..."

"Aw, come on. It can't be that obvious."

"It is." She grinned a very lusty grin.

Luckily for me, my mysterious hunk was just getting out of the examination room. Yeah, he had the build of a fighter: powerful arms and legs, broad, sculptured chest, abs you could wash your clothes on. And there was I getting all fuzzy inside again.

"You know what? You're right, Beca, I'm acting like some teenager. Let's do things the way adults do it, right?"

She laughed again as I poured the water over my head, shaking my long hair, and hopping in place a little. Time to dive in!

Doctor Ambrosia was taking him for a tour of our gym. Not her job. Part of me thought "_Get away from my meat, bitch!_" but that was just being childish. I approached the two of them and made a small, affected bow:

"And hello, gentlemen. My good doctor, who's our most new member?"

Ambrosia was this fake redhead, with fake boobs and a fake nose too. She smoked, she drank too much, and she was overall not suited to work with people's health. Still, she was a good doctor, a very good doctor. But I didn't like her, and she didn't like me:

"Oh, mister Rocha, this is Lola, one of our trainers. She specializes in woman's care, and she teaches the BodyJump classes too. I don't believe a fighter like you would need her expertise."

I extended my hand to the bulky man and he shook it with vigor, then he leaned in for the three kisses and I felt his smell, and I really had to hold myself not to do something stupid.

"On the other hand, I'm still a trainer, and I believe I can show you the facilities with a better eye. Until Master Ventura arrives, would you like to accompany me, mister Rocha?"

He smiled a broad, frank smile and answered a with a voice that made my heart tremble and my legs feel a little weaker:

"Yes, of course. I think having a trainer to show me the place will be very useful indeed. Do you mind, doctor Ambrosia?"

"_Plus, I'm all real, while you are all plastic, bitch_" I really wanted to say that, but Ambrosia beat me:

"No, I don't mind. If you need me, mister Rocha, I'll be at the receptions."

He didn't need her.

Now, the very few minutes I talked to him were enough for me to know he was an ascending star fighter, and he had just moved nearby and needed a gym to train. Most importantly: he was single, and it seemed he hadn't been with a girl for some time now. Just perfect.

Our conversation was trivial, I'll be honest. It could be summed up in: "_Hey, I think you're hot, do you think I'm hot?_", "_Yeah, I think so.",_ "_Cool, so why don't we meet up somewhere else so we can pretend we are having a civilized affair while only thinking about rubbing our bodies together like animals?_", "_Hell yeah!_".

Of course we didn't say those exact words, but words are cheap. At the end of the day, I had a date with the most handsome and arousing man I've ever met and he had a date with this really hot mulata who worked at this big gym... Too bad I had to wait until Saturday to put down my fire, but hey, you can't win all battles, right?

I spent the whole morning chatting away with Marco. His name was Marco Rocha. But like I said, our conversation was trivial. We talked about the equipment, he told stories of his fights, I told stories of the Samba School, I checked his ass, he checked my ass. All trivial talk.

Come midday, I had to say goodbye to him just as Master Ventura arrived to give him a quick training session. Heh, I offered to be his sparring partner next time, but Ventura said I wasn't strong enough. Old man was the only one who didn't notice I had the hots for the new meat.

But I had a compromise in the Samba School and no way in hell I was missing it. I took my cold shower, changed the sport shorts and bra for a miniskirt and top and got on my way to the School.

I usually stopped in a gas station on the way to lunch, but my talking with the big guy left me a little late for the rehearsal, so I just munched on some dog biscuits I had in my bag and called it a healthy lunch.

Now, some knucklehead once asked me if I knew that just because I was a werewolf I didn't need to eat dog food. I told him to fuck off. You see? Dog biscuits are made roughly the same way as human ones, just with less sugar and/or spices. So eating a chocolate favored dog biscuit was almost the same as eating a diet chocolate. Almost. It's an acquired taste, that's for sure, but I like them.

Enough about the biscuits. When I arrived at the School, Samuel was almost laying an egg. He ran to me with his brown face red with anger and those big wide eyes fulminating me with the meanest glare he could muster.

He looked really funny, to tell the truth.

"Lola, Lola, Lola! Late in such a special day! You better have a good excuse for this, young lady!"

I shrugged. Samuel was a really good friend, a damn good choreographer, and the best dancer I've ever met. If he had boobs, he'd be what I wanted to be:

"Sorry, Sam... I've just met this hunk in the gym this morning. I didn't feel like that for a guy since I got drunk at high school."

"It had to be a man, brunette? Couldn't it be some new shoes? Or you could have broken your leg... Anything else, to be honest. Men will take you nowhere, you know?"

"Nowhere but a warm and empty bed, I know."

"And a hottie like you doesn't get stuck. So next time you get late it's better be AT LEAST because you found a really good sale. If I know you're giving your precious, precious time to men I'm slapping your ass until it's red, got it? Now go get dressed, hurry up!"

He did slap my ass as I ran to the locker room. Sam was one of the few men who could say he would slap me anyway and not get a knee to the face. He made a show of it, but he liked men as much as I did.

But he was right. School first, muscly hunks second. And I was late. So I jogged trough the big dance saloon where we rehearsed and entered the locker room to change into my costume.

And, to my surprise, I almost bumped into this white chick. Boy, she was gorgeous! She was wearing one of our green costumes. But hers had wide green feathers in the back, rather than the shoulders, and a round, green bra with filling, she did have the feathers in the wrists tough, and the high stiletto heels looked even better on her than in anyone else:

"Oh, desculpa-me."

I'll put down her words in Portuguese rather than English so it won't sound like she spoke like a child who had just learned to talk. I realized who she was and decided to give her the proper treatment:

"No problem. You're the foreign girl Sam was talking about?"

I answered in what I believe was good English. Gotta thank my parents for putting me through all those language schools.

"Ooh! Speak English? Good, I was tired of these people laughing at my poor attempts at Portuguese."

I chuckled:

"Well, I hope you don't laugh at my poor attempts at English. But first things first, gorgeous, my name is Lola, you are?"

"Tania. My name is Tania. I'm a..."

"You're a gorgeous tourist who wants to live the Carnaval rather than watch it. That's all I want to know."

I said that in a friendly tone, but it really didn't matter if the gringa was some bum or the president's daughter. She got a custom suit, that's where her special treatment ended. Anyways, she smiled and nodded in agreement:

"Okay. I guess you have your own version of 'don't ask, don't tell'."

"Something like that. Hey, gorgeous, why don't you wait until I get changed so we can go out and tell Sam we're friends now? This way you can help me while I help you."

The girl was naive, I could see in her eyes. But she was indeed a gorgeous one, and she had none of the prejudices other foreign girls usually had. I could like her.

"I'm fine with that, gorgeous."

I chuckled. She got the spirit. I walked to my locker and began changing while still trying to break the ice between us:

"I'm brunette. Or bigass, if Sam is particularly bitchy. I think he's gonna call you milky, or maybe white chocolate. He might sound offensive or vulgar sometimes, but he's a nice guy, you'll see."

She hid her laugh:

"Yeah, he seems to be. He's a little..."

"Gay?"

"Humn, yeah."

"Hey, I know I said I wouldn't ask about where did you came from, but if you got some orthodox mind, you better open up a little. You're gonna go half naked in front a couple million people, and you might see some very weird stuff..."

"That's okay. I'm used to the whole thing already. Been here last year, just to watch. This year I wanted to participate."

I grinned like a predator. The girl was fresh and naive, and pretty too. If I could make her into one of us, Sam would definitely let me go out with my new guy without bitching about it. Plus, I really felt like seeing that lithe body sambando (dancing the samba) in the avenue.

"All right then, gorgeous, stick with me and I'll show you how to blend in."

I finished dressing and we headed out. Near the gringa I looked like an amazon: I had green feathers in my shoulders, knees, and wrists, and my bra was much smaller than hers, but also had a better finish in gold and green, just like the high heel sandals and the g-string. None of us wore the headpiece, that was left for when we got closer to the Carnaval.

As we exited the locker room, Samuel greeted us with a very effeminate yelp, his universal sign for "_I love it!_":

"Oh, my God! Miss Tania, you look amazing. And Lola, you still look as good as ever."

"Obrigado, senhor Samuel."

Sam spoke in Portuguese too, but I'm rendering only the poor girl's attempts so I can make fun of her. Though she did somewhat good with small phrases...

"Don't mention it, milky. Now, Lola, why don't you get our guest to learn the basic steps? Check if she has it in her."

"Was planning to do that already, Sam. Come on, milky, let's see what you can do."

We where about thirty girls, all mulatas, all tall and all the best dancers of the school. Sam called us his own "Tropa de Elite", a nod to that movie and to the fact that most of us had legs powerful enough to break a man's neck.

The white girl was going to stick out like a sore thumb, Sam knew that and wanted to capitalize on it. That's why her costume was slightly different, and her headpiece was also more elaborate. She was the crown jewel, Sam would say. My job was to make her shine.

Thank Luna the girl knew what she was doing. She had good conditioning, even though her legs lacked meat. And she did get all the steps right after only a few tries:

"Looking good, milky. You're the first gringa to get it right so fast."

She smiled:

"I'll take that as a compliment. Hey, if you gonna call me milky, call I call you something too?"

She danced like a sixteen year old in a party, not like a pro, but that was fine for a first try. Plus, she had potential. She didn't have boobs or hips, but she probably could dance the whole night away without sweating. And she looked good in an elegant, but primal way, like a noble animal, somewhat...

"You can call me Lola. And I can call you Tania. And we stop with the funny names."

"Or I could call you chocolate to go with my milk."

She stuck her tongue out with a grin. I liked the girl. She was naive, sure, but she also lacked the shame that most new girls had:

"And I could slap you for showing such disrespect!"

And I did slap her in the tiny mounds she called her ass. Now, this could sound very wrong, but let me tell ya: her buttocks where hard. Pure muscle in that girl, with just enough fat to make her look good and not overly ripped. Never met a girl like that before.

She didn't mind me getting personal. Hell, it seemed like she wanted a excuse for that. But she changed the subject very quickly:

"So, am I helping you now?"

"You keep following my lead like that and you will."

She was almost mimicking my every move. Even my breathing and the way I moved my arms, not just the feet. I repeat myself: the girl was good.

"And how will that help you, my friend?"

"Well, I got late because of this hunk I met earlier. If it weren't for you, I'd be doing laps around the saloon or some other random punishment. But there's a problem, you see? I'm the only one of these airheads who can speak English, so he needs me to be your interpreter. Now, you do fine, Sam gets happy, and forgets I'm seeing a man."

"Oooh. But I thought he wasn't interested in, you know, women..."

"He isn't, you silly girl. He's just jealous that any of us could be giving our precious, precious time to something that is not the School. That man is a workaholic, and we love him for it."

" I get it. So, if I keep going this way you'll be free to meet your prince? Okay, then, I'll be a better dancer for you, chocolate!"

Now I really liked the girl. We laughed at her little joke and I think it was my first genuine laugh in the day. All in all, it felt like I knew her, like I could trust her. Hell, she was some random foreigner and already I was feeling like she was my sister. Go figure.

"Thanks for the help, milky, but just be a better dancer for yourself, okay? You came all the way here to have a good time, not to serve as a stepping stone to me, or to anyone, for that matter."

"Estou sinceramente agradecida."

Heh, she got an entire phrase right! Atta girl.

What I'm trying to say is I really liked the gringa, and she really liked me. Friendships forming so fast is not common. Hell, friendships forming at all is not common these days. You know, calling her '_gringa_' sounds offensive right now. Maybe I'll just call her by her name then.

So, Tania was a fast learner. And a talkative one too. She told me she took pole dancing classes at her hometown, and that her father was some big cattle rancher. She did all the sexy things she did just to piss him off, it seems. She got surprised when I told her how simple my life was. I guess she expected more sex, or drugs, or whatever.

Sam loved the way we bonded. He said it'd do great for her learning and my discipline. Heh, she learned well, that's true, but I didn't get any discipline from a spoiled brat.

Don't look at me like that. I said I liked the girl, not that she was flawless. Nobody is.

Anyways, the afternoon passed with me and the new girl isolated from the group. Sam said she would rehearse with all of us the next day, and that I should make sure she could do it.

"Boy, I'm hungry... When do we stop for a snack?"

"At six, when we're done rehearsing. And, please, don't talk about food. I had dog biscuits for lunch..."

"Dog biscuits? Whoa... I... Humn... Don't know what to say about that without sounding really weird."

"Nevermind. It's a long story. Let's just say I like them and that I couldn't buy a decent lunch this noon."

"That boy again?"

"Yeah, pretty face ate all my morning. Pretty ass, to be honest. I can't even remember his face..."

"You know what? Why don't we go out this evening for dinner? I know this restaurant near my hotel... Oh, what am I talking about? You're the native here. Choose a place, anywhere, we can dinner there."

I smiled at the thought of a good feijoada com torresmo, but that had so much fat in it I would have to work my ass off to lose it. Nah.

"Hey, you're the big figure, you choose."

"If you insist..."

Having dinner with a foreign girl wouldn't hurt. Plus, it would seem to Sam I had my eyes on the blondie, and not on the MMA fighter from my gym.

When we finally finished the rehearsal, I had to take another bath, this time to get rid of the sweat. Plus, it was a nice excuse to have a look at the other girls. We had this competition, you see? All of us, no exceptions, had to be perfectly fit. No stress marks, no bikini marks, legs like iron, thick, meaty thighs and strong, but not ripped abs. There wasn't a single girl in my dancing group who couldn't lift half a ton with her legs, and neither one who couldn't dance all night long without asking for a break.

And we took pride in that. And pride meant we competed to see who was the best. Who danced the best. Who was the most fit. The sarge calls it '_the dictatorship of beauty_', and he is right about it. We lived in a dictatorship, and we were our own police.

Tania had none of those. She was just slightly below average height, but she was a true slab of muscle. I mean literally. She still managed to look good, though, like I said, in a noble, animalistic, way.

After the bath I hopped on my bike and took the new girl with me. She welcomed not having to pay for a cab and I welcomed the company. But you can't really have a conversation in a speeding bike.

We had dinner in this big restaurant near the beach. Fucking expensive place, but Tania covered all the bills. Girl had money coming out of her ass. As the night went by we got to know each other better. It seems she was some sort of eco fighter, it was another of those stuff she did to piss off her father, it seems.

We talked a lot. She was very interested in the way the School worked, and I could always listen to another of her stories about her escapades. Even the whole Carnaval thing seemed to be just a joke on her dad. She traveled without warning, and the poor bastard even called the police to find his missing daughter.

The girl was a sadistic freak when it came to her father, but I didn't question that. She made very clear the fact that her old man was some real dickhead, so I guess she had her reasons.

It was late night when I drove her to the hotel she was staying on. Another big, fancy place. I tried to focus on her pretty face and blue eyes so I wouldn't think about how much cash that girl was throwing away with me.

"Thanks for the night, Lola. Que mãe Luna ilumine seu caminho."

Gotta be some weird religion, I guess. I just muttered a response and waved goodbye as she did a little bye-bye dance. Girl was getting good.

Okay, so there was I, driving calmly down a secondary street when this bigass dog jumps right in front of my bike. I hit it square in the shoulders, but it didn't budge. My bike, on the other hand, went crashing down, with me on top of it.

I hit the forehead on the sidewalk, and bruised my right arm against the street. It hurt like hell, and my forehead was bleeding heavily. But I was conscious, so it could be fine. I stood up, checked around for my bike and found it laying across the street.

Right on top of it, was the dog. It wasn't a dog. No dog could be that brutal or savage looking. It was a wolf, a big, silver furred wolf. Okay, there are no wolves like that in Brazil. I knew that. I tried to clean the blood from my eyes and look again. There was no mistake, it was really a wolf.

It was growling, baring its teeth. And the street was completely empty. Just my luck.

I stood up, trying to control the rising fear I was feeling. My own blood in my lips, mixed with the taste of the pavement, making me feel all the more afraid. It was no dream, no nightmare.

The wolf took a step forward, growling louder. It barked once, then twice, then made a motion to attack me.

I hate to admit it, but I was so fucking afraid. I ran as fast as I could, forgetting about the bike, or even about the excruciating pain in my right thigh. The wolf came after me, running, barking, trying to bite me.

I screamed for help, but no one would listen. Then I felt this weight fall over me, and I went crashing down on the street again.

Tasting the pavement, the dust, and my own blood, I could feel my heart rush inside my chest, my lungs gasping for air as the wolves' weight crushed me under its paws. I could feel its breathing on the back of my head and neck, warm and hostile.

Then I felt its teeth sink into my shoulder. So painful I forgot all my other bruises and scratches. I begged for a quick, merciful death, but it seemed like it was going to eat me alive.

I was so afraid I soiled myself, so afraid I screamed until my throat was sore, so fucking afraid I passed out, wishing to die...

I hate this part, I really do. To think I was once so weak, so frail. That was not me. That was not the Moonbiter. That was just Lola Silveira. Just some airheaded mulata with a big ass who liked to dance and compete too much for her own good.

I woke up in my bed and thought it was just a very real nightmare. Then I realized I was naked, and someone patched up my right thigh, my left shoulder, and my forehead. And there were bruises on my arms.

My clothes, torn and dirty, were folded on the drawer right by my bed. I got new clothes from the closet, dressed up, and then picked up my phone and started calling. I called the gym and said I was attacked by some stray dog. Then I called Sam and did the same.

I found my backpack on a table by the kitchen. No sign of my dog biscuits, but everything else was there, even the money. I called the parking lot of the building I lived on and my bike was on its place, a little dirty, but undamaged.

I had to sit down and try to rationalize what was happening. I decided to take a shower, to take a good look at my wounds.

I came to believe something had scared the wolf away. Then I drove to my house, patched myself up an collapsed over my bed. The fact I knew nothing about first aid, neither remembered any of it didn't stopped me from believing that theory. It was the only way I could cope with it.

As the hot water poured over me, I checked my shoulder: those were definitely bite marks. Big ones too. My thigh was bruised heavily, but I think I could still dance after a week, maybe. Forehead was swollen, and that worried me a lot. Had to see a doctor.

Health plan does wonders in times like these. I managed to get a doctor that same day, and I bet the old fucker loved putting me naked in that cold bed. He rubbed something in my thigh, took some X-rays of my head, and made me take an anti-rabies vaccine. In the end, he said, it was all okay, just some really bad scare.

He didn't know the half of it. Good thing was I now had ways to skip my job and the rehearsing until the Sunday. Bad thing was I had all that time to think about what the hell had happened with me.

After I arrived home from the doctor, I just sat down on that same kitchen table and froze. I was shaking every bone in my body for about one entire hour when my phone finally rang and I got off the trance.

It was Tania on the phone:

"Lola, você está bem?"

"I can speak your language, you know?"

"I do, but I wanted to show some respect. Mister Samuel said you got attacked by some dog last night. Are you okay?"

"I'm fucking scared. But my body is fine. I'll be back to the rehearsals next Monday, for sure."

"Nice. Hey, do you mind if I come over to your place and we share some food? Pizza maybe?"

"Pizza has a lot of fat. Try Chinese food."

"Okay. I know this really good massage. Should make all your fears go away..."

"Milky, where were you all my life?"

We laughed as she turned off. Good girl.

She did show up with some Chinese food later. Girl was like a squirrel outside of the dancing room. She talked a lot, she danced a lot, she fiddled with my stuff. Hell, she even tried to get me to take my shirt off and show the bite marks!

But I liked her. For all her loony ways, she was very sincere. Those blue eyes didn't look like they could tell a lie.

And that massage really did wonders. Almost got me to sleep without nightmares about wolves and blood. Or maybe it was the soothing company. I don't know, really.

Anyways, the rest of my week was only bearable because of the little foreign girl. She showed up every night, with some food, or maybe a videogame, or even a movie. She'd get me talking about stuff I liked while she worked her magic in my shoulders. She even slept over from Friday to Saturday to help me get ready for my date with the gym guy.

My wounds healed faster than I expected. I got bitten on Thursday, and by Saturday the bite marks were much less visible. I still had to hide them under a jacket though. Crap, I had this really cute top I wanted to use that night, but fuck the clothing, they were coming off soon anyway.

Marco came to pick me up at eight o'clock. He asked who was the blondie who showed up to say goodbye and good luck, and I answered she was only a friend. But I saw the way he looked at her, the lust in his eyes. Funny thing is, he still had that strange arousing air around him, but it was much lighter now. I had no urges to do something extreme, not in public, at least.

He took me to another fancy place by the beach. Nowhere near the one I had dinner with Tania a few days ago, but a nice place too. More trivial talk.

Looking back now, I realize I was only going out with that man because my body was pushing it. I think I did this type of stuff before... You know? The whole "_just going out with him/her because I feel the hots for him/her_" thing? It's damn stupid, now that I think about it. But I said I was airheaded back then. Maybe I still am.

Nevermind that. When we were done eating, he took me to his house. His manor. It was a long drive from the city to it. And it was a big, walled house on the middle of the local Atlantic Forest.

I never got to see the full extent of the house. He took me to one of the ground floor rooms, where they had this big, indoor pool. It was large, and the room was warm, decorated with Greek style statues of naked nymphs and satyrs. Nice place.

I didn't need to hide my excitement anymore, and tossed my jacked aside as I neared the pool. I crouched down and touched the water, it was warm, and moved gently. It would be very romantic if it weren't for the fact that right in the middle of the pool there was this statue of a satyr and a nymph going at it doggy style. Their expressions were pretty realistic, actually:

"Hey, big boy, you realize you didn't need to bring me to this porny place to get me in the mood, right?"

He showed me a lusty, almost evil grin, but I've seen men do the same before.

"Nah, I just figured you might like the water. It makes for a good start..."

I was already taking off my clothes as he talked. Bastard didn't even ask about my bruises. I had a fucking bite mark in the shoulder, damn it!

"Well, you're gonna stand over there and watch me play or you gonna dive in?"

He began undressing too as I jumped in. I took a few laps around the pool as he sat down in one of the corners and looked at me. My legs felt good, my head didn't hurt, and my shoulder was okay. Time to light my fire...

I approached him and planted a light kiss on his lips. Then I pulled him down and if I describe what I did this story is gonna look like an erotic tale. Suffice to say, I made him very satisfied for a first round, and I was eager for more.

Just as we were rubbing ourselves dry, the doorbell rang. He rolled a towel around himself, asked me to wait a little as he saw who was it, and we could start round two.

I waited patiently. Then I got tired of waiting, grabbed a towel and went over to see what he was doing. As I neared the living room, I overheard:

"She's ready all right. Bitch is totally in heat. You guys should have seen the way she was all over me just minutes ago."

"But will she take the three of us?"

"She would take a soccer team if we asked right now. I'm telling ya, she's a total whore... I'm surprised she didn't give me a prices tab when she started undressing."

"So you got a ready, willing, and naked hot bitch in your pool? What are we waiting for?"

I've heard of guys who did that. You know, sharing the conquests... Disgusting.

I entered the room with a roar of anger:

"What, the FUCK, is this?"

Bastard was sitting there, still rolled in the towel, drinking beer with two friends. Two fighters too, by their looks. All the three of them were tanned, strong men, but only Marcos could be called handsome in any form, the other two were too damaged by their lifestyle to be attractive.

They all looked at me with that lusty grin. The look I learned to hate.

"Hey, Lola, these are my friends, Manuel and Rico. They wanted to meet you..."

"Meet me? Or fuck me?"

"You see? She goes straight to the point..."

I growled with contained rage, and turned to leave:

"Well, you boys can play with yourselves with you want. I'm no whore..."

What really made me angry was not their attitude. They were all rotten, that's true, but I'm used to rotten men. What made me angry was my body. I was in a position where I was being used, being made into a sex toy, and part of me actually wanted it!

I thought fuck this place, fuck this moron and his pals. I'll walk all the way to the city if I need to...

I never got to even leave the room. One of them blocked my path as the other two began to hound me like wolves. Wolves again...

"Come on, Lola, it will be fun."

"Yeah, after us, you'll never want anything else, prettyface."

"No means no, you fuckers. Now let me out."

They got closer. I could feel myself shaking in a mix of anger, fear and anticipation. I needed to get out of there, and fast.

One of them pulled my towel, I tried to hold onto it, but he was just too strong. The other one grabbed me from behind, his big, rough hands grasping my breasts in a very painful way, his breath fouling my hair as he prepared himself to have his way with me... I gave him a strong backwards kick, hitting his nutsack squarely.

As the brute keeled over in pain, I jumped over him and ran to the main door. Those monsters could be stronger than me, but no way in hell they where faster. My crazed escape was only halted by the locked doors.

The main doors of the house were bigger and heavier than me, I couldn't just kick them open, even if I did have a lot of lower body strength. So I did the only thing a cornered mouse tries to do and ran again, this time in the opposite direction.

I felt my heart pounding again. The wound on my shoulder had opened and was bleeding heavily, leaving that smell of copper in the air, and reminding me I was in deep, deep trouble. But I still had breath. If I could dance the whole night, then I could run the whole night. Problem was: where to?

I dashed across the big living room, into the evenly big kitchen and out to the manor's backyard. The sky was dark and moonless, as if the new moon hid her face from the act those men tried to inflict upon me.

Fucking manor was located on a Cliffside. I ran all the way to the safety rail that gave a nice overlook of the city of Rio de Janeiro down below. It was a big chasm. I contemplated the idea of jumping down and ending my pain...

I heard their voices getting closer, slow and steady, like predators. They mocked me, challenged me or even downright called me names like bitch and slut.

Worst of all, that's exactly what I was. And I knew that. I remember feeling my heart shake with rage, my throat burn with a contained scream as I kneeled over the chasm and waited for the inevitable. I had no courage to end my life rather than accept those men... Hell, I even thought I could like it.

Something awakened inside of me, and I released a powerful roar. A true wolf roar, brutal, animalistic and filled with rage. My body decided to fight back, finally. As I rose from the ground I didn't even notice I had grown in size and musculature. I cared little for my elongated, wild hair, and long nails slowly turning to claws. My skin hurt and burned, and my bones flared in pain as they cracked and expanded to form a new skeleton.

And those bastards who thought I'd be fun to gang rape me were now cowering in fear. I heard mother Luna's call and gave myself in, let the ancient fury of my kind take control as I turned into a two meter tall machine of destruction. I remember joy, I remember violence, and the taste of blood.

I woke up next morning in my apartment, naked but feeling so good. My wounds were gone, my doubts were gone. Somehow I knew exactly what I was, even though I really didn't know even the half of it. It felt good. It felt damn good.

Then I heard that voice and my dream reality crashed into the real world:

"Tough night, uh?"

Tania was sitting in a chair right beside me. Her chest was bare, and painted with strange runes I didn't know the meaning of, yet that writing seemed all too familiar. She also wore these strange beads around her neck, like some sort of shaman.

"The fuck?"

Her face was sad. But her eyes remained truthful. That made what she said all the more painful to me:

"I'm sorry Lola, I really am. I planned to show you your true self in a controlled manner, not like that. I bit you... Yeah, I was that wolf... I, I wished you to realize what you were... I'm so sorry it ended this way."

I growled, already feeling my anger coming back:

"YOU WHAT? Did you drug me? Are you crazy or..."

I tried to reach her throat, but I couldn't move my arms or legs further than the bed. It was like I was encased in a force field of some sort.

"Believe me. I'm a... A werewolf. Just like you are now."

My mind was so weary by that time that I just decided to accept it all and see where it could take me:

"You turned me into a FUCKING MONSTER?"

"You are no monster. And I merely awakened in you the power to become what you were born to be. I'm sorry it had to be this way."

Truth ringed in her words. And I remembered turning into something. I wanted to believe something else, something more mundane. I just couldn't. Not when I remembered the taste of the blood of the men I killed, not when I remembered the touch of mother Luna caressing my fur in the night. I was a fucking werewolf. Great...

"So. What do I do now? Do I have to kill people to live? To I have to live in shadows? Do I have enemies in every corner of the world now?"

"Your life will only change if you wish to. I can show you how to..."

Part of me welcomed the change, welcomed the spirit of mother Luna. The other part wanted nothing to do with that:

"You did enough for me already, she-wolf. Leave me be."

She frowned. As she raised herself from her chair I saw her not as some foreign spoiled brat, but as a leader, an elegant, animalistic leader. A leader I did not wish to follow.

"I said I'm sorry for how things turned to be. But you'll change your mind, I know it. I'll wait until you're ready, my friend. You know how to find me. The effect will only last a few more minutes, then you'll be able to move freely. Farewell for now."

I saw her turn into the very same wolf who attacked me that night, then she vanished into thin air.

I was left there, at my bed, my naked body reflecting my naked anger. I wished to tear the world asunder. To smash and to kill and to die in a shower of blood and gore. But my anger burnt quickly, and soon I realized I wished to know more.

My own stubbornness kept me from calling Tania, the Wanderer, and ask her for help. At least in the first days. My contact with her was limited to the rehearsals, as I refused to leave my old life behind.

As the time passed and I learned to deal with my new-found irascible mood, I began to crave more knowledge, and the Wanderer was the only source I had. I called her, and she answered with the same vigor from before, but the hyperactive squirrel I befriended turned into a noble and wise wolf.

For a short, but precious time, she was my mentor. As I taught her to dance, she taught me to be what I was born to be. I learned she was an Elodoth, of the Half Moon, born to lead and teach, while I was an Irraka, of the New Moon, a trickster and a hunter.

I learned of the tribes, and the laws and customs of our people. My friendship with Tania was strained at first, but became stronger as I learned from her. I met others like me in Rio, but I wasn't the Moonbiter yet. I wasn't Lola Silveira either. I was Thihirtha Numea, a Ghost Wolf, a loner, neither human neither werewolf, but walking the line between.

One of the most important things I learned was control. I found out there where humans around the world that had traces of werewolf blood in them, they couldn't turn, but their smell was very, very arousing. Before my first change, I'd jump on any human with that blood, I could smell it, it seems. After changing, I had to control my urges, I had to develop some discipline.

But it took me long to become disciplined. And some mistakes I did while I was a Ghost Wolf still haunt me to this day...

So, how did I became the Moonbiter? How did I became what I am now? That's another story. Maybe someday I'll tell you that one too.


End file.
